The Things We Fear

“Why don’t you tell me what you remember?”

“What,” he huffed, “So you can lie? No thanks.”

Cassius sighed, as though somehow Marcus was being the unreasonable one. The man had him tied to a bed, was looming over him, and analysing his every movement as though an errant twitch might give Cassius the keys to his son’s subconscious - and where the older witch was concerned, it could very well be likely. Yet somehow Marcus was the one acting ridiculous? Screw him. Marcus would have taken a swing at him by now. If he wasn’t restrained. And in pain. Fuck, that bolt had hurt.

Marcus felt like he had gone three rounds with a tractor and lost. If Theo was here he’d make a joke about being ploughed, but he doubted Cassius would appreciate his low-brow (hilarious) humour. There were some jokes you did not make to your parents. Regardless of how both of them felt about the title of parent.

“You were six years old. I doubt your mind kept much, if any, accurate information. Plus, the memory warps over time. I bet if I gave you the stone and asked you to recall that night, it would be entirely different from the visage you have created in your mind.”

“Give me the stone then,” he argued mulishly. Marcus would happily prove the prick wrong.

Cassius shook his head, as though indulging a small child.

“Not when your magic isn’t busy trying to heal your body. Strong though you may be,” and was that pride in the man’s voice? “You are quite clearly not invincible. Now talk.”

As much as Marcus could claim to be an adult, a young adult, but the adult was there in the name, he very much felt like a child. Tucked into bed, restrained, like a disobedient toddler, and it made him want to stick his tongue out in protest. And kick. And flail. And maybe scream a little. But he was an adult, so he bit his tongue and turned his head away instead. Choosing to fantasise about all the ways he would happily beat the other man across the head with a stick filled with nails.

Cassius sighed once more. If Marcus weren’t quite clearly the loser in this situation, he would have celebrated how much he was irritating the older man.

“There is something out there killing people. It tried to kill you, arguably succeeded. We may not get along, and I shoulder part of the blame, but you are still my child and I do not relish in seeing you hurt. Seeing your lifeless form will likely haunt my dreams for years to come, because, and I say this without sarcasm, despite how we may not always like one another, I do love you. You are my child. An extension of me.”

Marcus wanted to scoff. Of course, the man loved him simply because he saw Marcus as a piece of himself. It had nothing to do with who or what Marcus was as an individual. Marcus couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. The man was such a narcist. He’d probably marry himself if he ever succeeded in cloning magic. Wasn’t that a shuddering thought? Two Cassius’ existing in the world. The man had continued on with his little speech, oblivious to Marcus’ internal turmoil.

“Despite our differences, I want to see you safe. This thing attacking you in my territory is an insidious move against me. A two pronged attack, where it shows a blatant disregard for my power and purposely goes after the person closest to me as it cannot reach me personally.”

Marcus wanted to point out that the monster seemed more concerned with feeding and likely was a creature of opportunity than launching a targeted attack against the magic protector of this territory, but it would be pointless. Cassius had already convinced himself, and therefore it was now fact and everyone else would need to get behind his way of thinking. Had Marcus mentioned his dislike for the man yet? If not, he would like to take the opportunity to remind the reader that his sperm donor was in no way a reflection upon him.

“This thing will probably attack again, and it has a taste for you now. It is a predator. It will have no qualms about killing you or all those closest to you. You might have survived, but would your little friend? Would you mother? Or that darling little brother you are so enamoured with?” If Cassius’ nose could have curled anymore, it would have been returning into his skull.

Marcus wanted to ask what the man’s issue was with Brody, but quite frankly, he did not care. There were some things it was simpler to not be aware of. It was probably something ridiculous, like the boy not being his son, or a distraction for Marcus from his responsibilities.

Taking a breath, he looked over to the man, who was apparently waiting for a reply of some kind. He shook his head, recognising the man wanted him to engage in someway, but couldn’t find it in him to muster up the energy for speech. He could feel his legs slowly returning to normal. The burning pains reduced to an uncomfortable tingle. Similar to pins and needles, but with a fiery edge that refused to abate no matter how he wiggled and shook them. Not that he could go far. The blankets still acting like a fully body straight jacket had released a little, but not enough for him to escape.

“So you want me to recall that night because the monster will attack again?” He didn’t bother hiding the confusion in his voice.

Marcus was pretty sure he heard the other praying for strength, before an exasperated Cassius turned to look directly at him.

“Your friend got bit by a vampire whilst you were inches away,” he counted on his finger, “You go to a supernatural gathering and get attacked,” another finger. “You died,” how Cassius managed to make ‘died’ sound like idiot, Marcus would never know, but it was a talent he wanted. “You have unstable and volatile magic,” a fourth finger, “and you need to trust me to be trained. Right now, anything I teach you will go in one ear and out the other because you don’t, or won’t believe me. You are in danger as much as you are a danger.”

He did not like the trickling of shame that dropped through him at Cassius’ words.

“We will be spending a lot of time together for the foreseeable, and I for one, do not want us at each other’s throats or every interaction filled with animosity over a situation we should have cleared up years ago. Even if you do not like or care for me, I am your father, and I am owed the benefit of the doubt.”

Marcus would happily wrap every honey coated foul word around a spike, shove it up the man’s ass and watch him sit on it.

“No thanks.”

“You know, the sheriff is a good friend of mine–”

“Leave my dad out of this,” he hissed.

“I never mentioned your father, but now that you bring him up,” the malicious glee in Cassius’ tone wouldn’t have fooled even his most devout of followers.

“You stay away from my family or I’ll make sure I’m the last kid you ever manage to have.”

“Well, that is just uncalled for. However, my point still stands.”

“You were making a threat, not a point.”

“My point about us working together. It is a need’s must, and if you will not cooperate I can either use the carrot, getting to learn magic and keeping your loved ones safe, or the stick, such as speaking to my good friend the sheriff, or even Davies, the leader of the vampires. It would be such a shame if someone were to remind him how vicious bitten vampires could be and how it is often best to put them down before they can turn.”

“Don’t you dare,” Marcus was finally able to free himself from his sheet prison and launched himself bodily at the man beside him.

He barely had time to comprehend what was happening before he was flipped over and pinned back on the bed, face down into the pillow.

“Do you think a man like me has survived as long as I have without being able to take people down both bodily and with magic?” It was whispered so menacingly in his ear that his body physically convulsed a little.

“Leave my loved ones alone,” it was muffled by the fabric, but even down and beaten, he refused to give up.

“I’ll give you one thing, you have my tenacity,” he said, removing himself from Marcus’ back and flipping the boy over again. “Now, are we going to finally discuss this like adults, or do I have to make a few phone calls?”

Marcus bared his teeth at the man, a pathetic emulation of what he had seen James do many times in their childhood, but there was little else he could manage.

“Good. Now, tell me, what do you recall of that night?”

Marcus let his mind travel back. He always wondered why he so vividly remembered needing a drink. It was why he knew it hadn’t been a dream. He remembered waking up with a mouth so dry moths could have made a home in it, and had known he couldn’t fall back to sleep until he’d quenched that thirst. Also, a lot of times in his dreams he would fly down the stairs and it was always a disappointment in the waking world when he remembered he couldn’t do that.

Well, maybe he could now with training, but he couldn’t have back then. It had tempted Marcus many times, the idea of being able to fly. Teleportation and flying had forever been the top two on his “if you could have any superpower” wishlist. That a being able to protect the ones he loved. If Cassius had ever figured out all he needed to get Marcus on side was to offer those, Marcus would have probably cracked in minutes. No matter how much he feared losing himself.

“I went down the stairs to get a drink,” he began.

“Yes. In the dark. It surprised me, because you had, like most children, been rather afraid of it.”

Marcus was not about to tell him he still feared it. That would be giving the devil leverage. Instead he nodded, looking away again in case he accidentally physically communicated something, before continuing.

“I got my drink, but could hear strange noises.”

Marcus didn’t feel the need to go into detail about turning the tap on and off, or trying to look out the window for where the noise might have been coming from.

“When I realised it was coming from the basement, I decided to investigate.”

Cassius chuckled. “You were a very curious child. The amount of times I had to ward cupboards to stop you from rooting through them. One time, when you were just three, you found the bleach, almost gave your mother a heart attack,” the man continued laughing at the memory.

He wore a look of fond remembrance. It wasn’t a face Marcus was used to seeing on his father’s face. If he hadn’t known him, he might have thought it the look of a doting father.

“Err, right, anyway,” he continued awkwardly, not quite knowing how to handle this more serene looking Cassius, “I heard the sounds, so I went to see what was happening down there.”

He paused. As an adult it seemed like a pretty dumb move, but Cassius was right, he had been a curious kid.

“I don’t know what I expected, an animal maybe. I think I’d been begging you for a dog, so maybe I thought you might have hid it in the basement?” he shrugged, child logic, it wasn’t exactly on point.

He took a breath remembering what he had seen when moving down those wooden slats masquerading as stairs. Marcus was quite glad his father had moved since then, that house had been creepy long before he’d stumbled upon the basement sacrifice.

“And then?” Cassius nudged.

“And then, I don’t think I really understood at first. The weird mirror with swirling black. The girl lying on an altar. All–all that blood,” he choked the words out, almost overcome by the memory. “I don’t think I even knew blood had a smell before that night.”

Cassius shrugged as though this were insignificant. He was suddenly reminded of who his audience was. The man responsible for that girl’s death.

“She died,” the words breathless as they left his mouth. “I tried to help but something stopped me. I think I thought it was you, but then I remember you being in front of me?”

For all the details were crystal clear in some parts, sadly his father was right, others had warped over time.

“In any other circumstance I would have used magic, so you aren’t wrong, but it wasn’t me. I thought at the time it had been one of my followers, but when I approached you, learned it was the beings themselves. They had apparently found you worthy of saving. Had you stepped across that line, you would have been sacrificed. Yet, despite being denied a meal, they chose to save you. I still couldn’t say why,” the last part was hummed more to himself. A mystery the man was yet unable to solve but delighted by instead of frustrated at the lack of answer.

“The things? Other worlder’s, shadows, demons? Whatever you want to call them. They, I don’t know,” he trailed off.

Did Cassius not know about the shadows? About how they were still with him till this day? How they were in this very room even now? Their amusement danced around the darkened corners of the bed. Like they were just waiting for him to tell his father then attack. He wouldn’t give the shadows or Cassius the satisfaction. Biting back his words and looking to the ceiling. The white boards reflected the sunlight from outside. His favourite time of day, when the sun was lazily hanging from above and warming away all the cold which had marked his soul that day.

“Gods. Deities. Devas. Demons. There have been many names for them. Eldridge horrors. Aliens. It does not matter. They are a part of the balance of the universe and I as one of the high magic users of this plane, must regularly interact with them.”

“I notice how you aren’t denying you sacrificed that woman,” Marcus said instead.

“Naturally, it would be pointless. You know what you saw.”

It surprised him to hear the other confess so easily. Though if what Cassius said earlier was true, what did he have to fear when the local law enforcement were all in his pockets?

“However, you are missing many key details.”

“Such as?” He huffed.

“Such as female does not mean human. And even if she had been, it does not mean she was innocent. Or have you forgotten the time your little crush was almost killed?”

Marcus wasn’t sure which made the ice in his stomach freeze harder, the memory, or that Cassius knew yet another person he could leverage over his son.